Fearful Needs
by Bea Ryan
Summary: The same technology that saved Danny turned Jason into a killer. He wants to be free of his curse and free of his need for Charlie. She has other plans. (AKA Jarlie as a paranormal romance. Only slightly AU.)


**AUTHOR'S NOTE** 1: The first 1500 words of this story were originally released under the title "What is Love?" When the story grew to 11,000 words, the chapter breaks didn't work in a way that made it logical to just add a new chapter. My apologies if you've already read the first few pages, but you haven't seen all of the first chapter.

**AUTHORS' NOTE 2**: The PG13 version of this story is on Fan Fiction dot net. The R+ version is on Archive of Our Own. Both use the title "Fearful Needs".

* * *

The Badlands were taking a toll on all of them, but Jason seemed worse off than anyone else. Miles felt as if he could literally see the life fading from the boy as Jason's posture sagged, first curling forward to rest his head on his knees before giving up on exerting even the minimal strength required for that. Jason lay down on the cracked, dusty ground as night fell and Miles wondered if he'd ever get up again.

It made no sense. For seven days they'd lived on the MRE's they'd pilfered from the tower. The military rations were probably the most nutritionally balanced, calorically sustaining meals any of them had had in years. Charlie was thriving. She'd initially used her extra energy to spout words of betrayal and loathing at Jason. She'd let up when Jason had started to fade. Miles was glad for the relief. She was the one who had insisted Jason should be allowed to come with them after Tom abandoned him for switching sides yet again in the tower. Miles had agreed to it since Tom was head back East and they were going West. The boy was torn between his obligations to his family and his desire to live a moral life. Miles understood the struggle and considered the problem of Jason's loyalty resolved as long as he could keep a few hundred miles between the Neville men. Miles had even reluctantly admitted to himself, if not aloud, that having an extra set of skilled hands to defend the group would be useful.

Now, just a week later, a week during which they hadn't seen another living soul, he wondered if they'd be able to break up the earth enough to bury him.

Charlie returned to camp and dropped the now full canteens with an unceremonious clank. When Jason didn't move she intentionally banged the last one down and greeted Aaron, Rachel, and Miles louder than necessary, trying to disrupt his sleep. She hadn't spoken directly to him in days. She understood his divided loyalties, but she didn't forgive him for it.

Miles waved her over, his weary expression set her on edge.

"You need to make your peace with Jason. Don't leave it unresolved," he advised.

Charlie only stared at him as her heart and brain fought against the seriousness of his tone, against the fact that Miles of all people was encouraging her to get closer to Jason. Jason was just upset that she was mad at him. He wasn't really sick. You couldn't actually die of a broken heart if he even had one.

Miles continued when she didn't respond. "You don't want to be stuck with regret. I don't know if he'll answer or not, but go say what you need to say."

"Go to him," Rachel said.

Aaron avoided Charlie's questioning look.

Charlie moved to the other side of the campfire, closer to Jason. She kept her back to the others, unwilling to share this surreal moment with the group but unable to obtain any real privacy. This couldn't be happening. She desperately sought the right words, but they wouldn't come.

She watched the rise and fall of his chest as his breaths grew progressively slower, like a wind up toy that had run out of power. The tears welled up in her eyes. The words still refused to come. She didn't know what to say to him. She'd never understood what they had between them. He seemed to think that he needed her and sometimes she liked being needed. That didn't seem like the right thing to say to a man on his deathbed.

She softly whispered his name and reached out to caress his forehead, the skin soft and unlined as the muscles beneath it relaxed completely. She had almost made contact when the spark flashed between them, bright and clear in the dark of early evening. She gasped and drew back her hand as his back arched and he sucked greedily at the air, gasping for breath as if trying to make up for neglecting his lungs for so long.

Miles, Rachel, and Aaron rushed over.

"Seizure?" Aaron asked. "It looks like a seizure."

"I don't know," Charlie answered. "I just..." with that she repeated the action, again reaching toward him and again seeing a spark just before their skin touched. This time, now strong enough to respond, he lifted his head enough to press it against her hand.

His eyes fluttered open, catching hers briefly in the faint starlight of early evening before he fell back to the ground. This time his deep breaths gave the impression of sleeping, rather than dying.

"Did anyone else see the spark?" Aaron asked. "People aren't supposed to do that. Even in movies sparks don't literally fly."

Charlie ignored him, gently running her fingers near Jason's forehead, eager to see if the spark would repeat. When it didn't, she settled for stroking his hairline. His color was improving rapidly, and he clenched and stretched the muscles in his hands. Miles took a step back and drew his sword.

"Stop touching him," Rachel commanded. As was her habit now, Charlie ignored her mother. "I said stop touching him," Rachel shrieked, pulling on Charlie's shoulder and moving her by force since words had failed. "He'll drain you."

Aaron and Charlie stared at her, but neither touched Jason.

Aaron broke the silence first. "Drain her how? Like a vampire?"

"Of sorts," Rachel answered.

"You think he's one of Poe's super soldiers?" Miles asked.

"Bass didn't end the program just because you left," she answered.

"Would one of you explain what the hell you're talking about?" Charlie demanded.

Rachel's voice took in the unsteady tone tone it often did when she discussed her research. Her lip trembled as she spoke. "The first generation of nanites were programmed to absorb free electrons from the air. In response to a command from the pendants they would release the energy along certain types of conductors, mostly the metals used in circuits. They were a clean energy source, designed to replace power plants, and they were inactive in the body.

"When we sold that technology to the D.O.D., Ben stayed with electrical research. Dr. Poe and I began to work on the medical applications of nanites. After the blackout, Bass captured us both. He put Poe to work on the super soldier program, using nanites to give men unnatural strength and speed." Rachel's attention seemed to fade as she stared blankly into the distance.

"You haven't explained anything," Charlie complained before ordering her mother to continue.

When Rachel resumed speaking, her voice was stronger. "A capsule in the body transmits orders to the nanites. They can only handle very limited amounts of code, and we had a problem getting enough energy to the ones inside the body for them to do repairs and numb the nerves while they worked. They could heal, but they caused intense pain. So we developed a companion capsule with a battery command. Danny's capsule kept him alive, and every touch from Charlie powered his nanites."

Again, Rachel seemed to think she'd said enough. Charlie, however, was near an emotional explosion. The only word she managed to speak was, "What?"

"You're a battery," Rachel explained. "You store excess energy. When you touch someone whose nanites can receive, you discharge the energy. Every hug you ever gave Danny helped keep him alive."

"And you never thought to tell me this?"

"You were supposed to be a backup. You didn't need to know. Charging Danny was Ben's job or mine. It was better, safer, if neither you nor Danny knew. We're just lucky Danny was fueled up enough to survive the trip to Philadelphia so I could charge him again."

Aaron's resentment grew on behalf of Charlie. She'd never been treated equally by her parents and even now, with her brother long dead and her mother revealing she'd Frankensteined the girl, she still couldn't get any attention. Confusion and frustration were written on his pinched face. "So you made your daughter into a Duracell? What's Jason?" Aaron demanded.

"I don't know exactly what Jason's program is, but it seems he can draw Charlie's energy."

"Is that why I only feel right when we're together?" Jason asked. No one had noticed that he'd awakened. As he struggled to a sitting position Charlie reached out to help him. Her mother and Miles grabbed her arms, preventing her from making contact.

"Can I take too much? Will I hurt her?" Jason asked.

"I don't know," Rachel answered. "What fueled you before?"

Jason looked away. He remained quiet so long Miles was about to repeat the question. Finally Jason whispered, "My father could, but usually he wouldn't. He sent me out on missions."

There was another way too, one that had been intended as a way to control and motivate the soldiers in the program. It had sustained him while he was with the rebels and Charlie was in Georgia, but he didn't want to admit to it. Guilt gnawed at him.

"Spit it out, kid," Miles said. "Whatever you know about whatever you are, now is the time to say it."

"My father took me in for the procedure when I was 15." Jason huffed a scornful breath at the memory. "He was so proud. They were going to make his son fifty percent better than regular men. He said it might bring me up to above average. 'Structurally improved' they called it. Better reflexes, better endurance, greater muscle mass. Able to take more abuse and still live. They knocked me out and I woke up with a sutures in my chest."

"So they shoved a capsule in you and now you're what? Jason Bourne? Superman?"

Jason avoided their eyes. "I dunno. Vampire wasn't a bad way to put it."

Rachel gasped and her hand fluttered up to cover her mouth.

Aaron crossed his arms and shook his head. "Charlie, Rachel, Ben, Neville. Most of the people I know are the freaking Energizer bunny. How many human batteries are there?"

Rachel answered him. "Probably a couple of million worldwide. You're one. You just don't discharge until you die."

"Jason," she said, kneeling to try to meet his eyes. "You said vampire. Can you absorb the death surge? Do you get a charge from killing people?"

"I don't have to do it; I just have to be close when the die. I feel like hell about it if that matters. I never wanted this."

Miles tossed back a long swallow of whiskey. "Do you sparkle too, vampire boy?"

Jason held up his hand and studied it by the flickering light of the campfire. "No. Is that..."

"Shut up," Miles said as he stalked away into the darkness.

* * *

Jason packed his bag as soon as the sun rose, but his attempt to sneak quietly out of camp failed. The others had awoken. Rachel and Aaron silently observed while Charlie struggled for words. Miles completed his last patrol of the night and joined them.

"What'cha doin' there, Nipples?" Miles asked.

"I'm stronger now," Jason said. "I can go. I can keep Charlie safe by not being here."

"No," Charlie exclaimed. "If I'm the only way to keep you alive without killing people or going back to your father..."

"Who makes him kill people," Aaron chimed in.

"Then you have to stay with me," Charlie said. "You'll stay with me. We'll make it work."

Jason's stomach turned as he considered his options. He'd never killed just to be re-energized, but when his father had refused to help him, it had forced him to volunteer for missions that he knew would prove fatal for someone. It was how the program was designed: increase the utility of the soldier and motivate him to achieve peak performance. You could only train so much obedience. It was carrot and stick all in one.

"I should leave," he said, appealing to Miles and Rachel. "I don't know if I'm a danger to Charlie or not. I don't want to find out the hard way that I am."

"You can't," Charlie stated. "I won't let you."

"You can't stop me."

"I can follow you."

"Why?"

"Is this who you want to be? Did you know what you were getting into? Did you choose this?"

"No. I went in for a physical. They explained after I woke up."

"This is a Matheson made problem. This is my problem too. We'll work it out."

Jason watched as Charlie stared down her mother and Miles, communicating love and defiance in a single look. His father would have punched him if he'd ever dared look at him like that. Jason was property to his family, something to be used to better their position, and his opinions and desires were irrelevant. He wondered if his father ever regretted selling him. They'd gone to the hospital that day when he was 15 for his enlistment physical or so Jason had thought. The paper had crinkled when he sat on the table and he remembered thinking how strange it was that they wouldn't have used it for messages or books. Cloth could be washed fairly easily but it took effort to make more paper. It was nearly impossible to make thin, easily folded sheets like the one he was sitting on. It was the first giveaway that this was no ordinary hospital, but he hadn't guessed how far from normal it was.

His lanky six-foot frame had felt awkward as it hung out of the loose green medical shirt. The doctor had looked him over like a cut of meat, assessing his muscle mass, the lack of it really, he hadn't filled in until later that year, before declaring him a prime candidate. Jason had asked, "For what?" and both the doctor and his father had laughed.

"You already know you're going into the militia," his father had told him sternly. "I've secured a good position for you."

Jason had just stared into the distance and fought to keep his expression blank, shoving down the fear. His father hated emotion and had a warped sense of the word good, but nothing would come of challenging him or fighting the rule of law. Every man served in the militia. Some were career and some did a few years and went back to civilian life, farming usually, but every man served. He thought he would do what he was obligated to do and then find his own way, maybe become a teacher or work in private security for a merchant. He hadn't known what they'd ask of him. Hadn't known he'd have to demand the lives of others just to preserve his own.

* * *

Rachel look away from Charlie's judgmental glare and considered her options. Would Charlie really dedicate the rest of her life to fueling this unreliable pretty boy? She'd never even shown more than a passing interest in him, a date of opportunity more than eagerness. Now the girl's jaw was set and her eyes had gone hard. Whatever she'd decided she owed the world, Rachel knew Charlie's devotion to a cause was absolute once she'd set her course. Rachel herself felt some responsibility for the boy's predicament. She'd created a tool for healing. Much like Nobel had never intended his dynamite to be used so destructively, she found it difficult to process that her work had led to this: a 22 year old condemned to a life of murder to survive.

She ran through her options, through what she knew of the work and what she could reasonably guess, before speaking. "If you could escape the program, end your need for energy, would you do it?"

"Yes. Absolutely. I just want to be free," Jason answered.

Rachel surveyed his broad shoulders, his well-muscled body, and a few faint scars on his otherwise smooth, taut skin. She didn't ask him if he understood the consequences of his choice, if he really understood how much he'd loose without the boost the nanites provided.

"There may be a way. We need to get to my lab in Chicago."

**CHAPTER 2**

They walked east for two days, making slow but steady progress. Miles led the group, stomping a dusty path towards the rising sun each morning. They broke for lunch when Aaron began to complain about his feet and resumed their trek after an uncomfortably quiet meal.

Jason was the quietest of all. He trailed the group under the guise of defending the rear and avoided meeting anyone's gaze. He'd always been a man apart, more tolerated than trusted, and he no longer seemed to want even that meager acceptance.

At mid-morning on the third day Miles surveyed the land ahead from a small rise through his binoculars. He spotted a ranch with dozen horses in a large corral.

"We can try to buy them or we can just steal them," he said. "And we don't have anything to pay with."

"We'll have to steal tack, too," Charlie said.

"That's not even the biggest problem," Miles answered. Weary experience colored his tone. "The problem with stealing horses is choosing which ones to steal. You don't know you've made the wrong choice until you're thrown or plodding along on a nag while the enemy is shooting you in the back."

"So what do we do?" Aaron asked.

"Intense animal behavioral observation until dark, and then we pray for luck. You three," Miles said, pointing to Charlie, Rachel and Aaron, "Go up on the ridge. Share the binoculars. Study the horses. Pick one you think you can ride. Fast but not skittish."

Jason crossed his arms and leaned against a tree, watching the others leave and watching Miles watch him. When they were out of earshot Miles confronted him.

"You're getting weak again," Miles said.

"Yeah."

"If we're going to pull this off you need to be strong and fast. Competent at least."

"I know."

"So what do you plan to do about it?"

"I figured you were going to tell me to kill the rancher," Jason said.

"What?"

"I've been on Matheson missions before. They tend to have a pretty high body count."

"Yeah, well, this is a Charlie Matheson redemption quest. Killing the rancher is logical, efficient, and not something she's going to be OK with."

Jason sighed and his posture sagged.

"She just needs to rub your head or something, right? That's what brought you back in the desert."

"Any touch," Jason answered.

"And it doesn't hurt her?"

"It hasn't yet," Jason said. He'd never done it on purpose. He didn't know if his intent mattered. He feared his knowledge might be some kind of valve, forcing the flow from a steady trickle to a crippling breaking of the dam.

"I'm sending you two to fill up the canteens. Bush her hand. Help her up a hill. Whatever. Charge up. We've got to get horses if we want to make it to Rachel's lab before Christmas, and, God help me, you're my wingman."

* * *

"It looks funky," Jason said. The bucket of water they'd drawn from the well had come back up with a layer of whitish froth and brown specks on top. The fetid smell turned his stomach, but they needed water and the filter and boil rig beside the well suggested someone drank this water or at least had at some recent point. The nearby house had been reduced to a charred shell and a half season's worth of growth encroached on the remains.

"Anything in the tank?" Charlie asked, indicating the faucet at the bottom of the boiling pan at the base of the rig.

"When was the last time we were that lucky?" Jason answered. He lifted the lid on the lower container and glimpsed only the faintest shimmer of water in the bottom, probably just the last dregs that couldn't be tapped. He tested the faucet anyway, turning it all the way in both directions, but no water flowed.

"I guess we start hauling up buckets," Charlie said.

With the rig already in place making the water suitable for drinking would be time consuming but not difficult. They cleared the remains of the old fire and placed the charcoal in the lowest filtration bucket which had been fashioned from a colander lined with cheese cloth. They dumped the old grass from the top of the rig and put in fresh. The sand in the middle of the system would have to be good enough. Jason gathered sticks and logs for the fire beneath the tank while Charlie poured buckets from the well into the top of the contraption. She almost overflowed the sand filter before she adjusted her rate of pouring to match the difference in the rate of flow between the levels. After a steady half an hour of work the reservoir was almost half full, enough to fill their bottles.

"Should I light it?" Jason asked.

"Go ahead," Charlie said. "It will take a while to boil anyway and I can get another bucket in before it gets too hot."

Jason fumbled with the flint and tinder, unable to get a spark to catch and mumbling threats and curses at the straw under his breath. His shoulders were drawn tight and the longer he went without fire the clumsier his hands became. He jumped when Charlie touched his shoulder. When she knelt beside him he tried to shrug her away, but she didn't remove her hand.

"Charlie," he said, his voice cracking.

"I'll start the fire if you'll promise to talk to me," she said. She took the fire kit without waiting for his agreement. He retreated, pretending to inspect the remains of the burnt out house while she got the tinder to catch and stacked kindling around it to build the fire. By the time the fire was burning well he was completely out of sight, hidden somewhere in the remains of the house.

"Jason?" she called.

"In the cellar," he answered. "Around back."

She walked through the overgrowth along the side of the house and turned the corner, quickly spotting the double doors open above a dark staircase leading under the house.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she called down into the darkness.

"Just a second," Jason called back.

"What are you doing?"

"Looting."

"Anything good?"

"No."

"Then come out," she called back down. She moved to the shade of a tree near the corner of the house. From there she could both keep an eye on the fire and she'd see Jason when he came back out. She grew impatient as she watched the steam boiling off the pot while he lingered underground. When he finally came out, he stalked past her as if he intended to check the water. She chased after him and grabbed his hand. He quickly drew out of her grasp.

"You've been avoiding me," she said.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Why?"

He avoided her eyes, turning away as if he intended to abandon the entire conversation.

"Why?" she demanded again.

"I'm afraid of hurting you."

"What?"

"This nanite thing, Charlie. My dad mostly made me charge up... the other way. We were in the militia. There were bandits, missions, people attacking us. I didn't get run down often. I'm like a wind-up toy. You can't tell when it's fully wound, only when it's running out."

"I still don't understand why you're avoiding me?"

"What if I pull out more energy than you can give? I won't even know I'm doing it but you'll be just as hurt. Maybe dead."

They stood silently side by side, watching the steam rise from the water and listening to the chirping of the birds. The wind twisted, blowing the smoke towards them and forcing a cough from Charlie.

"It's boiled long enough to kill anything that can be killed by boiling," Jason said. "I'll go put out the fire so the water can start cooling. She watched as he kicked over the fire and quickly drew up a bucket from the well. The fire hissed and smoked as the water transformed it to a sooty pile of ash and char. He stepped clear of the path of the blackened spill, but stayed close, poking the sticks to be sure it was entirely out, before dropping to use a nearby log as a bench. He didn't turn to face Charlie as she approached.

"Do you know how cold winters get in Wisconsin?" she asked.

"What?" Puzzlement knit his brows.

"Really cold. Danny and I sometimes shared a bed just to keep from freezing to death. Eight straight hours huddled together and he never hurt me."

Jason studied her face, so sincere and innocent, while his mind conjured movies of a night spent with her, wrapped in each others arms as legs were tangled and heat was exchanged. His eyes finally settled on her lips as her tongue darted out to lick them. Her teeth worried the bottom one to a deep red flush as the silence drug on.

Finally he spoke. "I'm not Danny."

Their eyes met and Charlie's breath trembled as she exhaled. "You would never hurt me," she said.

"I would never intentionally hurt you," he said.

Her hand slid along the ridge of his shoulder, past the edge of his shirt, to rest on his neck. Her cool skin felt both soothing and electrifying.

"Charlie, don't," he said. He struggled to force out the words, making himself ask for the thing he wanted the least.

"It's my hand and I'll put it where I like," she answered.

Jason shuddered as she ran her hand along his cheek and across his ear, bringing it to rest threaded in his hair. It was where he'd always touched her when they'd kissed, back in Atlanta during the brief time when she'd liked him. The memory twisted in his chest. Every kiss had been a moment of heaven as his angel blessed him with her lips. He'd wanted to tug her body against his and slide flesh against flesh until they blended like clay into one perfect piece. He'd been good instead and respectfully kept his caresses above the neck, never risking pushing her so far she'd reject him. Her hands had wandered, never too far, never far enough, and he'd borne it, loved it, even as he fought with himself. They'd made love a thousand times in his head, but in reality he'd never even kissed her neck. Now she was appropriating his move, his safe place to rest his hand and maintain his self-control, and it was making him come undone.

She pulled his head toward her and he surrendered to her command like the tides drawn by undeniable force of the moon. Their lips met for one brief kiss before she pulled back enough to look into his eyes. He exhaled her name in a whisper like a spell or a prayer.

"You didn't hurt me," she said. "Not this time and not any other time we've kissed."

"We shouldn't do it anyway."

"You don't like kissing me?" she asked.

"You don't like me," he said.

His words hit Charlie like a slap. She stalked several paces away only to turn around and stare at him. He'd said it so matter of factly, as if it was obvious and everyone knew it. She wanted to punch him and tell him that his stupid, self-important little assertion was wrong. Who was he to decided who she liked and who she didn't? Sure, she thought he was untrustworthy, but that was his fault. He only told as much of the truth as you could drag out of him. It was like he thought someone was going to punch him if he said the wrong thing.

She looked at him, hunched over as if to make himself smaller and better protected and suddenly wondered how many times he had been hit by people he should have been able to trust. How often had Tom laid out his little boy for backtalk or failure? Was Tom a puncher or a spanker? Did he use a belt? For all Ben's failings as parent, his benign neglect as they found their way in a world he didn't understand, she'd never feared him.

"Jason?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"When was the last time you felt safe?"

"What?"

"Just answer the question."

"I don't even understand the question. Here and now is pretty low risk. We can see anyone who approaches before they're in firing range."

"No. Safe. Like you could got to bed and really sleep. No nightmares. You weren't half-awake and listening for an attack. You just knew that the people around you would take care of you and everything would be fine."

"Before the blackout I guess. Why?"

"You really haven't felt normal in fifteen years?"

"Are you saying safe is normal?"

"When you were in your house in Philadelphia, the best defended city in the Republic..."

"My father was sleeping down the hall. Not safe. At all. He used to do invasion drills... Nevermind."

"I want to know. I want to understand you." Charlie returned to his side and knelt down beside him. The water from quenching the fire had spread and she felt it seep through the knees of her pants. She again reached up to touch his face; this time she was gentle rather than passionate. A man was in front of her, but she was asking about the boy inside.

"Do you remember when you cuffed me to the pole? Or when Miles tied me up for following you?"

She nodded.

"Did I ever look scared?" he asked. He'd seemed annoyed at the pole. His expression had been a rehearsed blank look most of the rest of the time. If he'd ever been afraid he'd hidden it well.

"No," she said.

"I've been tied up before. I know how to get loose, and if I can't it's OK. I've been ready to die for a long time."

"You're suicidal?" she asked.

"No. I do these missions. Dangerous, crazy stuff. Sooner or later I'm going to get an injury I can't heal and that will be the end of me. I know it's coming."

He looked so calm as he explained his position that it hurt her. In his mind the world was an unsafe place and one day it was going to kill him. No wonder he seemed to switch sides so easily. If no one was on his, why should he be on theirs?

"Jason, do you trust me?"

"You know I'm crazy about you."

"Crazy isn't trust."

He tried to look away, but she turned his head back toward her.

"Charlie, we spent three weeks kissing all over Atlanta, and the minute things turned bad on that airbase you accused me of murder and sabotage. You locked me out of the tower and left me to die. When we went in I had a plan to save you and you looked at me like I was dirt and took a shot at me. No. I don't trust you. I love you, but I know I can't count on you to ever love me. If I'm lucky once your mother fixes this chip I'll be able to get over you completely."

He tried to walk away but she grabbed his arm. "You want to be over me?"

"No. I want you to want me as much as I want you and deeply enough that it doesn't disappear when a breeze blows. Since I can't have that I'll settle for getting over you and getting on with my life."

Again he tried to pull away but she tightened her grip on his arm. Tears welled up faster than she could crush them down. She knew he wasn't a toy. If she didn't want him then he should be free to find someone else, but the thought of life without Jason twisted inside her like a wire around her heart. She couldn't pinpoint the moment of the change or the reason, but things were different since she'd learned about the nanites and his condition. He was hers now. His plan to go live his life without her would have to be crushed.

She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. She wanted it to be sexy and passionate, a smoldering burn that rose to a bonfire and made him realize he'd never do any better. He pulled away.

"What are you doing Charlie?"

"Just kiss me," she said. "You've done it plenty of times before. You know a few kisses won't hurt me."

"I know it won't hurt you, but I need to get over you."

Her instincts for offense and self-defense went to war. He couldn't hurt her if she let him go, but was she hurting herself if she did?

"Don't," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Don't what?"

"Don't get over me. You make me really confused. I should hate you but I just want to be near you. Don't walk away yet."

He ran his hand along her cheek, stroking her ear with his thumb as he passed over it before his hand threaded in her hair and came to rest in it's familiar place. She nuzzled into the caress, noting for the first time how much peace she felt at his touch. He was her safe place.

He smiled down at her. It was a warm glow that touched his eyes and made Charlie's stomach flutter. He looked happy and eager as he leaned down, inhaling along her neck before whispering in her ear, "Five minutes."

"Five minutes?" she asked.

"I won't stop worry about hurting you. I don't want to kiss you to death. We know that five minutes is a safe amount of time."

"I'll take five minutes to start," she said.

**CHAPTER 3**

Charlie's patience with mini make-out sessions ran out on the western edge of the Mississippi River. Stealing the horses had been easy enough and they'd made good progress since, but Jason's caution was driving her crazy. He'd eagerly agreed to the kisses but now avoided all other touches, claiming that the compound effect might prove fatal. His steps to avoid touching her had become ludicrous. He'd led her horse to a fence so she could climb up to mount it rather than giving her a quick boost. When she'd asked him for the binoculars he'd passed them to Aaron to pass to her. As they'd worked their way north along the bank of the river, seeking a way to cross, she'd tripped on an overgrowth covered railroad tie. He had instinctively reached out to stop her fall, but he'd let go quickly, as if she'd burned him. His reluctance, his shame, annoyed her.

He'd kissed her on every street corner in Atlanta and held her hand as they'd crossed the streets, like he was a knight protecting her from the dragons of steam engines and bicycles. They'd spent an afternoon riding a bus, casually touching as they'd pointed out the sights of the grand southern town to each other She'd certainly noticed all the touches at the time, but she'd felt far from drained by the experience. She resolved to convince him once and for all that he wasn't a threat to her. She was certain that whatever had kept Danny's nanites from ever harming her was also in Jason's capsule.

The group had settled in for the evening on an embankment with good sight lines. The water below provided a quick escape should they need to dive for safety but it prevented anyone from approaching them from that side. Moonlight reflected off the water would provide enough light for a clear, early view of anyone following the path they'd taken. To the west was nothing but low, thick growth, heavy on thistle and stinging nettle that most predators, both human and animal, would avoid. It was the most secure campsite they'd had in weeks. Aaron volunteered for first watch. Miles and Rachel, both usually light, reluctant sleepers quickly began snoring. Jason picked a spot slightly further down the path and around a bend, ostensibly to serve as a sentry. It was a thin guise since he, too, quickly drifted off.

Aaron shot Charlie a quizzical look as she stood up and grabbed her bedroll. She put her fingers to her lips and tried to scoot past him, making a beeline for Jason.

Aaron grabbed her arm. "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"I'm not going to do anything I haven't done before," she answered. Technically it was true. She didn't plan to do anything new. She planned to do more of it more intensely and for longer. Touching was nothing new in her relationship with Jason and they'd slept near each other often. Now she just planned to sleep while touching.

She resolved to let it go no further. As much time as they'd spent together they'd never even made it to first base. Technically he'd been shirtless and lying down for their first kiss, a fact she'd pondered at length, but she hardly considered it a wanton, horizontal make-out session. She vowed this would be similar, just sleeping, like with Danny. Comparing her pale, delicate brother to the hard curves of Jason's caramel skin utterly failed to help her convince herself this was an entirely innocent attempt to help Jason overcome his fear of hurting her.

She rounded a corner in the path and noted that once she laid down she'd be out of Aaron's sight, hidden by prairie growth. Jason slept peacefully tonight, and she was thankful for it. Sometimes he had nightmares and thrashed at the ground. Once she'd even seen him stand up and draw an imaginary bow, fighting off enemies that existed only in his mind. Tonight he was smiling, but she feared that could change if she startled him.

"It's just me," she said softly.

He purred and rolled toward the sound.

"Can I sleep here?" she asked as she spread out her bedroll beside him.

"Not safe," he muttered, frowning now but not awake.

"Very safe," she said. "This is a dream." She snuggled into him, her head rested on his shoulder while her hand sought a bare patch of skin. Spending the night with her heart racing next to him while he slept would be pointless if she didn't have skin to skin contact to prove he wasn't a threat to her.

She began by stroking his cheek, but he turned toward her hand, kissing the palm and making her stomach flutter. She let her hand retreat, settling on his stomach with his shirt preventing full contact. She felt the soft rise and fall of his breaths and waited until he seemed to be fully asleep again. Then she slipped her hand under the hem of his henley at his waistband, finally running her palm against his flesh. She knew she wasn't supposed to be able to feel the flow of energy between them, but her hand felt invigorated. Every nerve ending sung, attuned to the soft skin and yielding muscle beneath it. She watched the moon move across the sky as sleep refused to come.

* * *

Charlie awoke with a start, lying on her side as a hand reached around from behind her and caressed the bare skin of her stomach. She remembered her plan last night as she felt the hard shape of a man at her back. His hot, moist breaths blew steadily across her neck and his musk, like woodsmoke and worn leather, scented the air.

"Jason?" she asked, certain it was him but still startled to awaken like this.

He responded with an incomprehensible sound. His callused fingers stilled and he breathing remained deep and steady breathing. She realized with annoyance that he hadn't been fully awake and had now gone back to sleep.

"I didn't say stop," she muttered.

Still asleep, he snuggled in closer behind her and nuzzled her neck. She tried to remain still and quiet, to enjoy the feeling while he slept but pleasured her, but a moan escaped her lips. He purred in response to her encouragement and slid his hand further up her shirt, stopping just before he reached the curve of her breast. She wondered how far she could take this before he woke up.

Pink was tinging the horizon and soon he'd be fully awake and mad as hell that she'd spent the night next to him when he'd told her to stay away. She hoped it wouldn't take more than half a day for him to get over the fact that she'd ignored his wishes and move on to what this meant for them. They had options. Whether Rachel found a cure for him or not, they could have a future together if they wanted one. His existence was no threat to hers. She could keep him well without the need to kill. Hope quickly twisted into fear. She wanted him to want her for her, as a friend and a woman, and not a source of energy, but if Rachel cured him would he still want her?

From behind her he spoke, his voice heavy with sleep. "Let me love you."

She pressed back against him, trying to convey how much she wanted just that, his love, and that she feared she loved him already. As his hand slid lower again, one finger tracing along the inside of the waist of her pants, his more physical definition of love became clear. She arched back against him and felt him jump to fully awake in response.

"Charlie?" Confusion was clear in his voice.

She rolled her torso half around, grabbing his head and kissing him deeply before pulling away to gaze at him with heavily lidded eyes.

This time his voice was thick with desire. "Charlie." He pulled her all the way around so she lay flat on her back and worked kisses down her neck. His efforts at restraint showed in the tension in his muscles. She felt the hard bunching of the muscles in his shoulders as he moved and let a single wanton moan escape her lips.

Miles's voice boomed across their clearing. His body, thankfully, remained out of sight. "You have two minutes to report to main camp. If you are not here then, I will come get you. Don't make me come get you."

**CHAPTER 4**

Charlie and Jason weren't able to steal more than a few moments alone during the rest of the trek. Miles glowered at them but Charlie refused to let his mood dampen her joy. Their morning adventure may have been interrupted but they'd successfully spent the night together. She and Jason had options; they could safely choose each other. One day they'd have to discuss it, but Aaron, Miles and Rachel seemed to conspire to deny them the opportunity. They were only briefly able to discuss Charlie's night visit while the group had stopped to allow Miles to consult the map.

Jason said, "I don't like that you risked yourself for me."

Charlie answered, "I don't like that you ever believed I wouldn't." He tried respond but she cut him off. "If something is worth fighting for, I fight," she said.

A warm, wide smile quirked his lips and crinkled his eyes. "My girl's a soldier."

He leaned in for a kiss, but Rachel called out, interrupting them. "We should get there on Monday."

"Four days," he said. "Four days until I'm free."

Charlie's face fell. "I didn't know you felt trapped."

"Not by you," he stumbled. "I don't want you to feel obligated."

"You didn't say anything about me," she countered and tried to walk away.

He grabbed her arm. "Before I had any idea that you could help me, I loved you. You are the one who hasn't always been so fond of me. Is it really that crazy that I don't want to have to go back to killing people if I can't hold your attention?"

Charlie stared as the others mounted their horses. She felt stung by his words and sick to her stomach. She'd been having fun, playing a romantic game, and had forgotten that this was a life or death matter for Jason. No wonder he wanted to be free of her. If Rachel's procedure was successful, he'd have a choice to make soon. She hoped he'd choose her.

* * *

They stood on the sagging concrete walkway in front of Rachel's old lab. Somewhere inside could be the key to Jason's cure and now the rusty lock was refusing to turn. They waited impatiently as Rachel fussed with the key she'd found still hidden above the windowsill where she'd left it years ago. It seemed ludicrous that no one had moved it, but then high level electrical engineering research hadn't been of much interest to most people after the blackout and nothing about the long row of office doors would make anyone think there was anything edible, comfortable, or weapon-like inside. It wasn't a place that seemed to be worth looting.

Rachel had been vague when she said she might know how to turn off Jason's energy needs. He felt like a succubus, constantly reaching for Charlie, holding her hand like it was his only anchor to reality, but it was true. With the chip in place his options were Charlie, kill, or die. He had dreamed of being a superhero when he was a child and glibly doing away with evil-doers, but now he was an adult and everyone was shades of gray, including him. His superpowers came with a definite downside. He didn't quite trust the woman who said she could fix him, but he didn't have any good options. Loving Charlie while constantly waiting for her to abandon him to his former life was torment.

"We're going to have to break it down," Charlie said, pulling his attention back to the present. He gave her hand a firm squeeze, released it, and kicked in the door.

"If this works you won't be able to do that any more," Rachel said.

"It's a trade I'm willing to make."

Rachel just nodded and moved to the back of the lab. Three days later she said she had a cure.

* * *

"That's your plan?" Charlie stormed as she rose from the cheap, fake leather couch in her mother's office. "You want to shoot him in the heart. That's the best you can do?"

"It's not quite shooting him in the heart," Rachel said. "It's a specific frequency energy pulse that will hopefully short out the programming in his capsule."

"You want to shoot him in the heart."

"The capsule is behind his heart, yes. There's no way to remove it. Our only option is to disable it."

"That's not the only option. You don't have to do anything," Charlie said.

"I want her to," Jason answered.

"It could kill you," Charlie said.

"If it does, then I won't ever kill anyone else."

"I'm here. You have a choice."

"No, Charlie. I don't have a choice. I just want to be normal. I don't want to be some pet you take care of out of pity."

"It's not pity," she said.

"Then it still won't be pity once I don't need you."

She flinched at his words and he moved toward her, reaching for her hand, but she drew away.

"Charlie, do you really want me following you around like a beggar for the rest of your life?"

Jason looked at Miles, Rachel, and Aaron, surveying the room for support. He saw in their carefully steeled expressions that none of them wanted him Charlie to feel tied down. They'd help him get the procedure, and they'd help her get over him if he died. He wondered what it would be like to be so loved.

"When can you do it?" he asked Rachel.

"Rest tonight. We'll do it in the morning. Charlie and I will have to stay away from you for a week and we'll see if your nanites run down or not. If you just lose a little muscle mass, then you're no longer supercharged and it worked. If you get as weak as you were in the desert, then it didn't work."

Jason let the last statement stand for now. He knew what he had to ask, but he couldn't do it in front of Charlie. She'd never agree to it. Her family would. Later, when he was alone with Rachel he'd say, "If you can't save me from this curse then don't save my life. Don't let Charlie recharge me. Let my plague destroy me so I don't have to destroy anyone else." They'd be happy to have her free of him one way or the other.

* * *

Since that night by the river, as they'd walked and as Rachel had worked, Aaron and Miles had taken pains to keep Charlie and Jason from having any time alone together. Tonight they seemed to have disappeared, finally giving the couple a few moments. Charlie tried to enjoy the time, but her mind wouldn't relax. The thought of waiting a week to see him, getting by with only reports from Miles and Aaron, made her ache. She pushed away the thought that she'd never see him again. Jason's rigid posture and slow steady breathing were hard for her to interpret. It reminded her of the times they'd fought against the militia together. He found an odd sort of peace before he charged down a seemingly unconquerable enemy. So far he'd always won, but she didn't like testing his luck this way.

He stopped in a field of soft, low growing clover and sat down, unpacking the dinner they'd quickly shoved in a backpack when they'd grabbed the opportunity to sneak out.

Charlie crouched behind him and kissed his neck. "So we do it in the morning," she said. She rubbed a hand across his back, wrapping her fingers around the tense muscles in his shoulders and trying to knead away some of his tension.

He grabbed her hand and pulled it around to the front of him so that she landed in his lap. He pounced, kissing her lips with bruising force and she returned the action with heat of her own. She tried to drive away the sense of looming disaster with the force of her kiss. What would she do without him? If he lived, how profoundly would he be changed? At best they'd no longer be as connected as they now were. For tonight, she gave him life and he gave her purpose. Tomorrow, if he lived, they'd each finally have a true choice. She wanted to believe she'd choose to be with him, a regular man who wanted her rather than needed her for his survival, but she'd been fickle with her devotion before she knew about their technological bond. She liked to be needed, to be necessary to someone, and her position was about to be downgraded.

It was a sexual battle against uncertainty and fear. They tried to devour each other. Hands grabbed at clothes and pulled, clumsily attempting to expose flesh as quickly as possible. His suckling kisses left reddened marks as he savored her bared flesh. He tasted the salt of her skin and intentionally left hickeys, marking her as his own.

"Ouch," she cried.

"Sorry," he said, pulling back. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to gain control of his desire.

"I didn't say stop," she said as she touched his cheek.

"You didn't say go either."

"Go," she said.

"Go?"

"I want this. More. More than what I've had of you. I want you. I don't know who you'll be tomorrow." With tears welling up, she continued, "If you'll be tomorrow, so I'm taking everything I can get tonight. Everything."

She felt the heat rush to the surface of his skin as he took in her words, and she smiled. He might be fifty percent stronger than an average man, but she had one hundred percent of his attention and she wanted every drop of it. He smiled back at her through parted, panting lips while his eyes shone brightly.

"Just a little more gently, please," she said.

"Gently," he murmured. "I can be gentle."

* * *

For five days she'd obeyed their orders and stayed away from Jason. He needed rest. His body was changing. Let him adjust. They said it like it was obvious and natural, but it felt wrong to be away from him. She didn't care what the procedure had done to him as long as she could hold him again. If he was weak as a kitten then he could lay in her lap while she patted his head, but she wasn't going to wait any longer.

Charlie crept through the window into her mother's lab and knelt beside the worn couch where Jason slept. Miles, Rachel, and Aaron hadn't agreed to the visit, but they seemed to have accepted that she was going to find a way to do it with or without their permission. They kept the door locked, but they also told her not to touch him. If it hadn't worked the only way to know would be to observe his decline as his nanites starved.

The room was rapidly darkening as the sun set and she squinted at him through the gloom, trying to gauge his color. He looked pale and it worried her. She knew she wasn't supposed to touch him, knew it would ruin the test, but her hand hovered above his head and she stared at the space between them, watching for the spark. It had only happened in the desert when he'd been so near death. She'd never let him get that weak again. It hadn't been hard once he'd gotten over his fear of hurting her. Touching him had become a habit. Five days without it had left her feeling empty. She wanted to touch him and bring the color back to his cheeks like she'd done so easily and unintentionally in the desert, but her desire to feel him wasn't selfless. The wait had been hell for her.

If she couldn't touch him she at least wanted to talk to him. She felt guilty waking him, knowing he'd been through so much physically, but she said his name anyway to see if he'd respond.

He murmured a response in his sleep, a low purr that made her sharply draw in her breath. She'd heard the sound before, their last night together, when he'd been wrapped around her back, both of them nude and spent. She remembered his sleepy caresses and snuggling back against him. The time after had been as intimate as the act. Long, slow kisses were punctuated by giggles and whispered stories. Pillow talk she'd heard it called, but their arms had been their only pillows. He probably should have slept that night, she'd said as much, and he'd replied, "I have the rest of my life to sleep, but I'll never have this night again." At the time she'd thought it was romantic. Now the statement felt horribly prophetic.

She repeated his name, louder this time, and got no response. Tears rolled down her face. How could she go on without him? He was too much a part of her world for him to suddenly be missing from it. It felt like half her soul had been ripped away. Selfish or not, she needed him to wake up.

"Jason," she said, louder still. She wanted to touch his cheek and coax him awake. To kiss his lips until they were no longer dry and pale but painted red like the desert where she'd first learned that she could have a meaningful role in his life.

His eyes flickered open, and he smiled briefly before shrinking away from her. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know. I just had to see for myself how you're doing. You don't look like you feel well."

"Don't touch me."

Something in his tone struck her. It hadn't worked. This wasn't his body retreating to normal. He was dying, he knew it, and he was letting it happen.

"Why?" she demanded.

"I don't want to live that way anymore."

"You'd rather die than live with me?"

"I don't want to be a burden to you."

She wiped away her tears and stalked to the other side of the room, moving as far from him as she could before turning to glare at him. "Who are you to try to make my choices for me? I have been in agony for days waiting to see you and all you've been doing is laying her dying. It didn't work. So what? You've been this way for seven years and it's been easier recently than it's ever been in your life, so now you want to die?"

"Charlie..." His voice trailed off. He had no answers. He loved her, unconditionally and endlessly. It was her love that was unsteady, and he couldn't bear to force her into something she didn't want.

"You don't want me. Was the sex bad for you or something?" she asked, her tears flowing again, hot and uncontrolled but silent.

"It was amazing. You're amazing. I could happily spend the rest of my life with you."

"That doesn't mean much if you're choosing to die soon."

"Could you spend the rest of your life with me?" he asked. "Do you think we could have a long, happy life together?"

She considered his words carefully before replying. The weight of everything he was asking pressed on her. She'd considered their future, but hadn't thought she'd have this conversation with him so soon. A quick lie to save his life would be easy, but she never wanted to have this discussion again. She didn't want to ever have to wonder what ridiculous decisions he'd made by assuming how she felt. She wanted the issue resolved forever. He would live and he would live with her.

"I don't know how long my life will be, and most of it hasn't been very happy," she said. "But when I think of the times I've felt hope or joy in the last year, you're there for most of them. I am furious with you right now. I can't believe you'd leave me on purpose. I hate to imagine my life without you. I really want to hit you for being so dumb and selfish and mean, but I also want kiss you. You're my Jason, and you're not only awake, you're the same man you were the last time I saw you."

She didn't bother to try to slow the tears as she continued talking. "I've spent five days trying to hear your voice in my head and remember how you smell because I figured as long as you lived I'd get at least those two parts of you back. And instead I got all of you back, and you're trying to take yourself away from me. Why would you do that?"

"Because I can't risk living without you."

"Well toughen up, jerk," she said. "I could get shot by bandits on the road out of here. I could drink bad water, freeze to death, catch a cold. One of us has to die first, and it could be me. 'Til death do us part' isn't a race to see who gets there first."

"Til death do us part?" he asked.

"These last five days without you were enough time apart for a lifetime. If you want away from me the only way out is six feet under."

"You really want to spend your life with me?" he asked.

"I know you have a hard time believing that you're loveable and that I love you, but you are and I do."

"I really want to run across the room and kiss you, but I don't think that I can stand up."

"Lucky for you I'm strong enough for both of us," she said.


End file.
